Crystal Shard
by DawningStar
Summary: Years before the Dragon Campaign, Charle Frahma's visit to the Birth City forever changes the lives of a young slave girl named Shirley and her owner. Complete.


Crystal Shard 

Crystal Shard   
by DawningStar

In the dim glow of pre-dawn light, the normally spectacular form of the crystalline structure known as the Birth City was only just visible against the surrounding clouds. Clearer was the mass of green-blue points of light, hovering about the city. A hum shivered through the air, the combined sound of several hundred Winglies in flight. All faced the palace, but there were no voices; no noise but their wings. 

Over the horizon, the first red crescent of the sun appeared. The sudden light struck the sharp edges of translucent crystal and shattered, sending a thousand fragments to shimmer on the white, reflective stone within. For a moment, the whole of the tall, diagonal shape glowed a deep crimson. A soft murmur of awe went through the onlookers, as the colors began to shade up through the spectrum. 

The reverent silence held until the sun was fully up and the crystal returned to its normal green-blue sparkle. Then, as though everyone had been holding their breath, there was a long, collective sigh. Voices sprang up, excitedly describing the view to one another and laughing in wonder. 

"Wasn't it simply lovely?" someone exclaimed from behind Miata. The young Wingly turned to see the woman she had been assigned to escort smiling at her. "I _am_ glad you showed it to me, even if it did mean getting up so early." 

Miata politely returned Charle Frahma's smile. "It's always worth seeing--though most people decide after a few days of living here that their sleep is worth more." 

The older Wingly laughed. "Yes, I did notice that there weren't many locals in the crowd." 

"Shall we go in now, my lady?" offered Miata. "That's all there is to see, really." 

"Very well," Lady Frahma agreed. The two headed for the open section of the city as she continued, "I did notice the odd lights yesterday, but you're quite right, it doesn't compare with seeing it as a whole." 

The guest quarters had their own balcony, a railed platform about halfway up the slanting side of the city. "I'm pleased that you enjoyed it," Miata said as they landed, the hum of wings fading. 

"Oh, certainly. You are an excellent guide, young Miata." 

She bowed slightly in acknowledgement. "Thank you, my lady." A faint scent of food in the air made her glance over the rail, down to the courts and restaurants below. "The morning draws on...do you wish to eat now?" 

The lady shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but no. I am to eat with City Leader Muron shortly, and I don't wish to spoil my appetite." 

Miata frowned slightly at this. "I was not told of that." 

"No reason why you should have been, my dear," Lady Frahma assured her. "It was to be an informal meal only. Your presence will not be required." She smiled again. "But I do need to begin getting ready. I'm certain you have tasks to attend to besides escorting me, so why don't you meet me here at, say, fifteen degrees past noon?" 

Bowing again, Miata carefully reinforced her mental defenses, wondering in hidden terror if the lady had seen through. "If you are certain, Lady Frahma." 

"I am entirely certain." She smiled, an unthreatening and sincere expression that lessened Miata's fear only slightly. "I will see you then," she added, and walked into the guest rooms, closing the door softly behind her. 

Activating her wings again, Miata took off from the balcony and swooped down toward the landing areas in the lower levels of the city, a flight that took at least five minutes if one wasn't hurrying--and she wasn't. She needed the time to bring herself back under control. 

Charle Frahma, older sister of the all-powerful Melbu Frahma who ruled from Kadessa, was ostensibly visiting the Birth City to check the status of the dual seals based in the top chamber of the spire. Surrounded by the crystal that focused magic as well as light, both had extra power--the Signet Sphere, one of five that kept the body of the God of Destruction floating harmlessly in the sky above Endiness, and the newer working to trap the Divine Dragon within the mountains below. 

This was plausible enough, since the lady had been closely involved in the creation of both. But Miata was sure, with a guilty conscience's sick certainty, that Lady Frahma was also here to find out _her_ crimes. 

Upon being assigned as Lady Frahma's escort, she had cautiously protested, citing her multiple duties as an attendant in the lower levels. But her supervisor had informed her that she was the only junior worker trusted not to offend the important visitor--and reminded her that after all she did have more free time than the others, having recently saved enough gold to buy several Human slaves. Now every glance, every word made her worry--what if she had been found out somehow...? The penalties for her actions were written clearly in the rules of the city, and she had no wish to undergo them. 

But no, no. No one had ever caught her, no one could have the faintest suspicion of her. _I just need to stay calm, do my duties, and no one will ever know._

The small landing platform in the lowest level was fast approaching now, and Miata reduced power to her wings, straightening out to touch softly down. She looked around. Most of the other attendants would be at their jobs by now, but...there, her supervisor was just inside, hurrying toward her. 

"I took the Lady Frahma to see the sunrise prism effects, leaving from her room's balcony," Miata reported as soon as the older Wingly was close enough to hear. "We have just returned. She dismissed me until this afternoon, saying that she had to get ready for a meal with the City Leader." 

Supervisor Paril let out a sigh. "Archangel bless you, Miata," he said in relief. "I just got word the janitors finished." He ran a nervous hand through his thinning hair. "She'd never have missed the cleaning spells that close, and if the Emperor's sister found out about our little problem..." 

Miata nodded in fervent agreement. The probable replacement of most higher-ranked officials didn't really mean much to her personally, but it would almost certainly mean loyalty screenings among the lower ranks as well. She had heard several hundred rumors about such screenings, none of them good. 

"Do they know who's doing it yet?" she asked curiously. 

He shrugged. "The investigator thinks it's probably a young male with delusions of grandeur. The idealistic type. They're checking things out. Anyhow, Miata, if you've got a few hours free you might as well get some work in." 

"Right," Miata agreed, and headed down the dim corridor toward the various wards--only to pause. "Ah...Supervisor?" 

"What is it?" He came up behind her and, seeing what she had, groaned and glared accusingly at the blue-green wall. "Not again..." 

From somewhere within the crystal, words floated into view, the deep crimson of old blood and set several inches deep. A poem in the common style known as 'triads'--three stanzas of three lines each--this one and others had been an aggravation to the entire city for more than six years now. 

A spreading stain of red on crystal:   
the glory of twisted light   
hides the blood in our creation. 

Judge me as you will, but I say what I see:   
truth's crystal shards fast falling,   
denial only speeds our doom. 

It is not the infants who are without hope:   
magic cannot save a soul,   
Mayfil will not claim the innocent. 

"Well, better here than in Lady Frahma's quarters, I suppose," Paril said glumly. "They're calling him Crystal Shard now, did you know? He keeps using that metaphor." 

Miata sniffed. "If he's going to spread poems all over the walls he could at least make them _good_ poems. This doesn't even make sense." 

Her supervisor nodded. "You have to admit he's good at his magic, though. No one has been able to figure out how the spell works, much less who cast it." 

"You'd think he'd have to be a crystal-worker," Miata said contemplatively, "but I can't imagine any of them thinking this way...much less writing poetry." 

"Well, it doesn't matter much to us." Paril waved a hand toward the wards. "You go on. I'll call the janitors down." 

Miata's assigned ward was several doors down, one of many which cared for the borderline infants. In the Birth City, all children were assigned to one of three categories. Most commonly, those above a certain level of magic were released to their families immediately, and those far enough below the required level were killed. A few, however, hovered right on the border mark, and sometime in the past some bureaucrat had decided that it would be unfair to kill these off at once. Time within the Birth City's crystal structure had been known to increase power levels slightly. Attendants like Miata cared for these children for up to three years, at the end of which time, if they hadn't improved enough, they were killed. 

Three redheaded children looked up as Miata opened the door, one girl of about ten and a girl and boy of perhaps five, all their faces like enough to be siblings. "How have they been?" she asked, voice low so as not to disturb the ten sleeping silvery-haired toddlers in the stacked cradles along one wall. 

"Palie woke up early and wouldn't settle down for a while," the older of the two girls reported, "but they're all down for their naps now, my lady." 

"Very good," Miata nodded. "Well done, Shirley." 

The Human smiled shyly and looked down. "Thank you, my lady." 

"You really can call me Miata when we're alone, you know," Miata reminded Shirley absently. "Did anyone come by?" 

The young boy shook his head. "Nobody." 

"Good." Miata let out a sigh and sat down on one of the four larger beds in the room. "I have to meet Lady Frahma shortly after noon, but I have a little time here first. Have you finished fixing their bottles for lunch?" 

"Lakia and Leon did that," Shirley said, with a proud glance at the two named. Obviously twins, they gave an identical grin of delight at the praise. 

Miata returned the smile. "In that case, why don't we do another writing lesson?" It wasn't really permitted for her to teach slaves to read and write, but...by this point, she didn't really care about that. None of the three would give her away. 

It was a common practice for attendants to buy very young Human slaves and raise them as helpers or to be sold at higher prices later. Sibling groups were also not uncommon, since they tended to get along fairly well. Miata's possession of these three had some different reasons behind it, however. After all, if it looked like they were all siblings, no one was likely to suspect the truth... 

For, before Miata had applied a pair of small, concealed spells, the twins' hair had not been red at all. It had been the pure, unmistakable sheen of platinum. 

_I was insane,_ Miata thought, not for the first time. _I went completely out of my mind, is what it was. If anyone finds out--!_

But no one had even looked sideways at her or the children, no one expected audacity of this magnitude from a lowly attendant. Risking death and worse than death for the sake of children who weren't even considered alive in the first place? You would have to be insane. 

Miata had worked as an attendant for fifteen years now, and it hadn't been long before she realized that she could not accept the normal practice. To look at the babies she sang to sleep, read aloud to every day, fed and changed and burped and rocked, and say that these were somehow unfit to live, simply because they did not measure up to an arbitrary standard--she could not do it. 

Her supervisor, had he known, might have called her idealistic. The other attendants would have whispered that she was 'child-hearted', and looked at her with open contempt and carefully concealed sympathy. But neither ever found out. Miata knew her rules and regulations well enough to realize that hiding her weakness was the only chance she had for survival. 

The first few years she had been lucky; most of the children placed in her ward succeeded in improving their magic to a level where they were safely out of the City and considered normal Winglies. Here and there she had bent the rules, finding little ways to boost an infant's magical power, to make a scan register just a bit higher than it should. And she had closed her ears to the tallies of the other attendants, the number of deaths that mounted ever higher. 

Then there had been some she couldn't help, and grief at their murder--it was murder, whatever they called it--tore at her heart, buried where no one would see it. A terrible frustration building, Miata grew steadily less cautious. Her practice in secret magic brought other possibilities to mind, and she acted on them, heedless of the attention it might draw. 

And then, six years ago, the twins had come...from the first day it was obvious they would never manage to improve enough to survive. But she had named them nevertheless, unable to help herself--some parents gave their borderline children names, but the twins had been nameless--and at three months, they had given her matching toothless grins... 

She'd tried to hold back, but by two they had begun to talk and proven to be incredibly intelligent. Before they turned three, they absorbed and remembered everything she read them, and Miata loved them dearly and could not bear to let them die. She had just managed to save up enough money to purchase a couple of slaves, so she had filed a leave of absence and teleported to the surface. It wasn't allowed, but she took the two with her, having carefully forged a report of their death weeks before and inserted it in its proper place. No one bothered to check its accuracy. 

Both Lakia and Leon understood quite well the danger they were in--somehow the children always found out. She was fortunate in that their eyes were dark enough already to be taken for hazel, and their features were not distinct enough to mark them as Winglies. 

Shirley had been another stroke of luck, a Human child of five or six with a certain delicacy of features and dark eyes very nearly the shade of the twins'. She had agreed to claiming the young Winglies as her siblings, relieved to be bought by Miata rather than several of the others who had been bidding...in return, Miata had promised her lessons in reading and writing and eventual freedom. Slavery might be slightly better than death, but she did not want the twins to undergo either, and Shirley would stay with them. 

The spell on the twins' hair was not difficult to perform or to hide, and it accentuated the similarities between the two and Shirley. As Humans, they looked younger than their three years, and no one had suspected anything. 

A gentle tug on her sleeve interrupted Miata's thoughts, and she looked down to see Lakia regarding her with concern. "Is anything wrong, Miata?" the girl asked. 

"I'm...a little worried," she answered, with a sigh. It was never any use to try hiding things from her charges, and anyway they ought to know. "The Lady Frahma is rumored to be awfully perceptive, and I have to spend a lot of time with her. But I expect it will be all right." 

Shirley stared at her, dark eyes wide in concern. "We've been careful," she said softly. "No one could have found out." 

"That's right." Miata reached for the writing materials, hidden under her bed. "There's nothing to worry about." If only she could convince herself of that. 

The lesson lasted several hours, until the younger children began to wake and demand attention--most were too young to remember anything they might overhear, but there was always the danger of a stray word. They ranged in age from an infant assigned only a month ago to a two-year-old who knew already that she needed to improve her magical ability and the stakes for failure. Miata had few worries about this one, Palie by name; she was right at the required level and steadily growing stronger. 

Miata checked the timepiece on the wall. "I ought to go now," she said apologetically. "I may not be back until late tonight--there's another reception in honor of Lady Frahma. Shirley, don't forget the older children can go to the courtyard this afternoon." 

"Right," the Human girl nodded. "I'll take them." 

With a nod of farewell, Miata closed the door softly behind her again. 

The courtyard was a small grassy area where the children who could walk went for exercise, allowed there to talk and play games with children from other wards. Miata had to pass it on her way out, and from the noise, there were already several attendants using it. She paused for a moment, unwillingly drawn to the bright spot that had always seemed faintly morbid to her. 

The oldest children were singing, tuneless, childish voices rising in one of the multiple games that had existed since long before she had come to work but no one quite knew the origin of--a Human slave perhaps, or even an especially precocious child. 

It was in part why the children knew what to expect when a friend's third birthday came and they disappeared. No one tried to ban the games or the songs; it would be pointless, and some attendants felt it gave the children a reason to work harder at their drills. 

One boy stood in the center of a wide circle, chanting rhythmically to a half-sung tune, while the rest did as the verse asked. 

Do you know how to run? How to run? How to run?   
If you know how to run, you can stay.   
Do you know how to run? How to run? How to run?   
If you don't know how to run, it's okay. 

And the children who had stumbled or fallen in the rapid spinning of the circle left it to stand to one side and chant along with the next verse. 

Do you know how to skip? How to skip? How to skip?   
If you know how to skip, you can stay.   
Do you know how to skip? How to skip? How to skip?   
If you don't know how to skip, it's okay. 

Again those who had failed left the circle, and the chant continued with increasingly difficult actions until no one remained. Then they launched into the final verse, the verse that always forced Miata to hide a wince. 

And can you pass the test? Pass the test? Pass the test?   
If you can pass the test, you'll get by.   
Oh, can you pass the test? Pass the test? Pass the test?   
If you can't pass the test--then you die! 

She turned away, but before she drew out of earshot the voices changed, the lively chant giving way to a plaintive melody. It was a simple song in a major key, and every time Miata heard it she felt her heart break anew, all the more because those who were still kept in the lower levels as they drew close to the third birthday were unlikely ever to leave. 

Archangel knows us,   
Archangel sees us,   
Archangel hear our prayer,   
Archangel help us,   
Archangel save us,   
Archangel show you're there.   
We want to live   
Please let us live   
Archangel hear our prayer--   
We want to live   
Please let us live   
Archangel show you care... 

Miata had long since ceased to believe in her peers' faith. If the protective goddess that many Winglies prayed to existed at all, she was deaf to pleas from Birth City. 

Blinking hard, the attendant hid her emotions once again behind the wall of crystal in her mind. Her bright crimson eyes burned with the pressure of the tears she had forbidden them to release. 

* * *

It was well past the middle of the night before the reception broke up enough to allow the guest of honor and her guide to leave. Working hard to suppress an impolite yawn, Miata escorted Lady Frahma back to the balcony of her room. 

"Thank you for being so patient tonight, my dear," the lady said, with a warm smile. "I know you had to be terribly bored. These things just go on and _on_, don't they?" 

Miata allowed herself a rueful nod of acknowledgment. "But it's an honor for me to be permitted to attend, my lady," she added hastily, the suspicion occurring that the question might have been a trap of some kind. 

Charle Frahma only looked at her with a wry expression that was probably meant to make her feel more comfortable, but only succeeded in worrying her still more. No one of the Lady Frahma's high status ought to be treating a lowly attendant this way! There had to be something behind this, and Miata dreaded finding out what that might be. 

"Miata, dear, I hate to ask this after keeping you out so late already, but would you mind coming in and talking for a moment?" Lady Frahma added, opening the door to her chambers. 

Her misgivings growing yet stronger, Miata bowed politely. "Not at all, my lady, anything you wish." She followed the noblewoman quietly into the room. 

"I rather wish you would call me Charle, my dear," Lady Frahma sighed. "It gets so very _tiring_, all this formality. I know it's expected, but I must admit I don't much like it." 

The guest chambers of the Birth City were resplendent crystal like everything else, with translucent drapes in a rainbow of color decorating the walls and handcrafted, terribly expensive embroidered rugs covering the floor. The sitting room was several feet larger than Miata's entire ward on the lower level, and the furniture was cushioned with equally extravagant silks and satins. Miata had to force her eyes away from the luxury to respond, "I'm very sorry, my lady, but think of what City Leader Muron would say if he heard me! I would be demoted at the very least." 

Lady Frahma sank back onto a couch piled high with cushions and let out an irritated breath. "I find I don't much like City Leader Muron either. Too much attention to formalities and not nearly enough to practicalities." 

Miata froze in terror. It was a long moment before she recovered breath enough to squeak, "My lady, please! You can say such things, but I--I could be arrested for just listening to them!" 

She looked up apologetically. "Perhaps you're right. Forgive me. I've been away too long to come back to the superficiality of noble life, it seems...truly, though, Miata, you are quite safe here. I never allow eavesdropping." 

_But you can report what I say,_ Miata thought, not at all relieved. "Thank you, my lady," she said noncommittally. 

Vivid crimson eyes gazed at her with a wryly amused understanding once more, and Lady Frahma added, "You're free to say nothing, in any case." She stood up, moving with a stately pace to one corner of the room. "Do you write poetry, by any chance, Miata?" 

"No, my lady," Miata lied, the falsehood coming easily to her lips after so much practice. "I really don't understand much of what I've seen. Too many layers of meaning for me! I like things spread out plainly." 

The lady shrugged. "Pity. I'd hoped perhaps you might tell me what this means." A casual hand reached out to pull aside one of the numerous wall hangings, revealing familiar words in blood-red lettering. 

Clear your eyes and look:   
beneath the crystal, bones lie rotting...   
the innocents, murdered for useless conceit. 

In this all races are equal:   
no more Humans die at our hands   
than we slaughter of our own children. 

And is this then the pride of the Winglies:   
death, murder, and blood?   
No empire stands long on such foundation. 

It was unmistakably one of the many poems that had appeared randomly through the city for six years now, and Miata's breath caught at seeing it. _No! Now she knows--she'll tell--_

But Lady Frahma was still looking at her curiously, and Miata licked dry lips and managed, "It's--obviously the work of some vandal. I'm sure the city investigators can find who, if you want me to call them." 

"No, no need to bother them," the lady said, waving a careless hand. "I rather like it. It's refreshingly honest, and more than I expected to find in a place like this. Everyone here seems to lie to themselves constantly." 

"That's only to be expected," Miata pointed out. "If they didn't lie, they would have to admit the truth to themselves, and that would be far worse." 

Charle Frahma's gaze turned abruptly sharp. "That's quite perceptive, dear," she said softly. 

Miata didn't dare look away, though she felt as though those ruby eyes were staring directly into her soul and laying bare all her secrets. "Isn't truth always hard to accept? Probably people everywhere do the same, my lady." 

Breaking the eye contact at last, Lady Frahma examined the poem on the wall once again. "Difficult to tell, really, whether the author actually disliked the empire or was simply trying to get a warning out. He or she may very well be right, you know. I have never approved of the custom here, and it does breed discontent." 

"Even _you_ can't say that!" Miata cried, shock making her momentarily reckless. "Thousands of years this has been the way it is--the Emperor himself--" 

"My baby brother and I agree on very few things," the lady bit out, voice low and suddenly dangerous. "Ever since I swayed popular opinion enough to set the Signet Spheres in place, limiting the power he could draw from his Crystal Sphere, he has been quite aware of my...leanings." She turned abruptly, letting the curtain fall back into place. "But interesting as all this is, none of it has much to do with why I wanted to talk with you," she said, cheerful again. "You mentioned once, Miata, that you owned three Human slaves?" 

The other remarks had been worrying, but this set off an instant clamor of alarm bells in Miata's mind. "I do, my lady," she said cautiously. 

"Good. I want to buy them." 

The matter-of-fact statement nearly paralyzed Miata for a seemingly eternal moment. "May--may I ask why, my lady?" she faltered. _I _can't_ sell them! They would never forgive me, and if anyone happened to look a little too closely at Lakia and Leon..._

"For the new city I've founded," Lady Frahma explained, moving back to sit again on the couch. "I need slaves trained in caring for young children, and I've seen how efficient you are--yours will be very well trained, and young enough to adjust to the change besides." 

"There must be others who would be more suitable," Miata protested, as strongly as she dared. "Mine are no more than children themselves, barely half-trained." 

The lady leaned forward. "I don't object to paying top price, dear. I know this will be an inconvenience for you, but you'll have more than enough to buy several new slaves, and to make up for the extra training." She paused then, a slight frown creasing her unmarred face. "Or is there another reason?" 

Miata weighed her options swiftly and looked away in simulated embarrassment. "I...promised them I would free them when they were older, my lady," she admitted, forcing a tone of shame into her voice and darting a quick glance back to judge Lady Frahma's reaction. 

Nodding in understanding, the lady smiled slightly. "Few would care so about a promise made to Humans, but I respect you the more for it, my dear. Very well, then. By all means, they must be freed when the time comes." 

Surprise made itself plain on Miata's face, as she jerked up in disbelief. "Thank you, my lady!" 

Charle Frahma raised a hand. "Still--I see no difficulty in my purchasing them from you. Perhaps with a limited contract..." 

From the outer room came the distinctive sound of someone using the short-range teleporter, and Miata unconsciously moved a step away in alarm. Lady Frahma stood up. "I took the liberty of arranging to have them brought here," she explained mildly, "since we're discussing their future. I hope you don't mind." 

Miata _did_ mind, very much so, but she could hardly say that. Swallowing hard, she murmured, "That makes sense, my lady." 

Shirley, Leon, and Lakia entered together, escorted by a low-ranked Wingly servant. The older Human held the twins' hands protectively, the very image of siblings. All three knelt at once before the Lady Frahma, heads bowed in submission, though Miata caught Shirley's swift, questioning glance and answered it with a worried shake of her head. 

"And so polite!" the lady exclaimed in pleasure. "Come, now, Miata, you simply _must_ let me buy them. They will be very happy in Ulara, I promise you." She walked over to inspect the three children, and laid an affectionate hand on Lakia's head. "You may go," she added to the Wingly. He bowed and left at once, the hum of the teleporter briefly rising again. 

Brushing her hand through Lakia's hair again, Charle Frahma looked up. Miata watched in trepidation--she knew her concealment was good, but was it good enough to fool the Emperor's sister? 

"Perhaps the children needn't hear this part," Lady Frahma decided, and smiled down at them. "Run along, now--go play on the balcony there for a few minutes. I'll call you back when we need you." She helped the twins to their feet, and Miata noted in growing fear that she took the opportunity to touch Leon's disguised hair as well. 

"My lady--" she began, once the children were out the balcony door, but Lady Frahma stopped her with an upraised hand and a gaze so different from before that Miata felt ice clench at her heart and creep upward to freeze her tongue. 

"But you don't wish me to buy them, do you," Charle Frahma said, voice again grown low. 

A desperate voice within Miata's mind was crying _She knows! She knows! We'll all die..._ Lakia and Leon would be killed instantly for their escape, and Shirley likely would join them, for Human lives were cheap and no one could be allowed to learn of this disgrace to the Empire. Her own fate...treason carried a worse punishment than mere death, and Miata broke into a cold sweat at the thought. "I--I explained why already, my lady," she stammered, and knew by the noblewoman's face that explanations would be useless. 

Ruby eyes caught her own and held them, in that disconcerting gaze. "Do let's stop lying to one another, Miata," Lady Frahma almost purred. "I despise dishonesty. Now, then. I shall be frank, since you say you prefer it. These twins of yours are not Human." 

Miata shook her head in panic. "Of course they are, how could they not be? Their sister--" 

"_Not_ their sister," the lady interrupted sharply. "Be honest with me now, my dear. The younger two were Winglies. I can see that plain enough; their hair is fine and Wingly-soft despite its color, and the roots are yet silver. Tell me: why did you do this?" 

She could still have denied knowledge of the counterfeit, but Miata knew she could never live with herself after letting her children die--for she thought of them as her own after so many years caring for them. She lowered her eyes, feeling tears of anger and hopelessness well up in them. 

There was one chance, only one, and it hinged entirely on the Lady Frahma's compassion and the opinions she had admitted to having; but Miata didn't expect it to work. Opinions were one thing, treason quite another, and compassion was a trait the Wingly aristocracy had tried very hard to wipe out. "I couldn't bear to let them die," she said truthfully. "The children--they've done nothing to deserve death." Miata knelt before Charle Frahma, and looked up, careless of dignity now. "My lady, I beg you, don't kill them! They will live as Humans, they barely remember being Winglies, it can be no harm, surely? Please!" 

The lady returned her gaze, eyes cold. "Have there been others?" she demanded. "How many times have you risked the purity of our species?" 

"No others," Miata lied, though several dozen names flickered through her mind, the children she had helped in smaller ways. "Only the twins." 

Lady Frahma released a long sigh, and reached down to take Miata's uncomprehending hand in her own. "I must apologize for misleading you, my dear," she said, tone gentle once more. "You will understand. I had to be certain how much you were willing to risk, before I spoke of certain matters." 

Miata shook her head in shock and disbelief. "My--my lady?" she asked uncertainly. "You...will not turn us in?" 

"I will not." The lady smiled. "Call me Charle," she added. "It's more fitting now that we're fellow conspirators." 

Badly confused and still more than a little afraid this was a trap, Miata remained silent. Charle Frahma tugged her to her feet. "Do you remember a girl named Caron?" she asked. 

Miata nodded, but said nothing. _Caron...bright red eyes, sweet smile. A steady rate of improvement but too slow to reach the mark in time. Of course I remember..._ Nearly ten years ago, she had perfected a long-range, secret spell for changing words on certain surfaces, including that of the pads used to record the children's information. She had used it to give Caron the extra few months she needed, changing her birth date slightly. It had been her first real attempt at breaking the rules, and its success had made her bolder. 

"Her parents came with me when I first went to found Ulara," Charle explained. "They knew the girl had been kept longer than three years, and they had given up hope when she was delivered as though nothing was wrong. They were wise enough to say nothing to anyone else, but they brought the matter to me. I've been a long time finding you, Miata, dear." 

_She knew...she knew all along!_ The fear resurfaced, her suspicion of a trap confirmed. But Miata clung to a last sliver of hope--_she did say she wasn't going to turn us in..._

Charle patted her hand soothingly. "Truly, child, there's nothing to worry about. Now. It's clear enough you disagree with my brother's policies concerning Wingly children. What are your feelings about slavery and the Humans?" 

"I, ah, have little experience with Humans, except for Shirley," Miata replied. There was little point in being less than honest now. Nothing else could make her situation any worse. "But I don't like the idea of anyone being less worthy of life than anyone else. I hate what I've heard, of mistreatment, of the arena." 

The lady smiled, a brilliantly cheerful expression that Miata couldn't help returning. "Wonderful! Let me tell you, then, more of _why_ I am building Ulara so far from the usual paths of the cities..." 

And as Charle outlined the nature of her plans and her involvement with the Humans, Miata began to understand clearly just why it had been necessary for her sincerity to be so thoroughly tested. 

* * *

The door was thin enough that she ought to have been able to hear _something_ through it, but there wasn't even the faintest sound of voices. Shirley moved away from the balcony door in disgust; she knew the evidence of magic when she saw it. "I don't know," she admitted to Lakia, who sat on the floor hugging her knees and stared up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry." 

Leon placed his own ear against the crack in the door and listened intently for a moment before shaking his head. "Can't hear either," he said, and sat heavily next to his sister, resting against her for comfort. 

"Scared," Lakia whimpered to Shirley. "Lady Frahma wants to buy us, doesn't she?" 

Reluctantly, Shirley nodded. "That was what it sounded like." 

"She'll find out," Leon breathed. "What if she knows--!" 

His sister reacted instantly, slapping a hand across his mouth in terror. "Don't say it!" 

Shirley lowered herself to the floor beside them, wrapping a comforting arm around each. "It'll be all right," she whispered fiercely. "I won't let anything happen to you." 

The two Winglies that were her adopted siblings relaxed only marginally, but they leaned into her firm grasp. Lakia sniffled and put her thumb into her mouth, a habit they had been trying to break her of for years; this time, Shirley didn't object. Whatever comfort it gave the child, she needed. 

Even after these long years, it seemed sometimes rather as though she were betraying her own kind by liking Winglies...prejudice was long ingrained and hard to erase. But Shirley had to admit that Miata had never treated her badly, and she had come to hold a deep respect for her owner's bravery and unusual moral fiber. It took courage, raising fugitive children right under the collective nose of the people who would order their death. 

And Shirley did like, perhaps even love, the twins who were her supposed siblings. She hadn't been able to help it. They treated her as their sister, there being in their minds no difference as yet between Wingly and Human. The fear that shadowed their eyes at the sight of a stranger, the terrible knowledge in the young faces when looking at the infants in their charge had woken a protective instinct within her...she wished no harm to them, would do everything in her power to shield them. 

_And if I die for it, at least I'll have died trying._ The children, after all, were just as much victims of the Wingly Empire as any Human. Shirley had always wished, futilely, that she could change things, set things right, and here she had a chance--in a small way, perhaps, considering the scale of the wrongs being done, but it was _something_, and more than most people she had once known were willing to do. 

Shirley pulled her mind back to the problem at hand. Miata would avoid selling them if at all possible, of course, as it would be her life on the line as well if the twins were ever discovered. But this was the Lady Frahma, the Emperor's sister and only living family, and if she were determined enough, Miata might have no choice. 

Alone in an unfamiliar city with no one to trust, it would be her responsibility then to see that the twins remained safe. Shirley shivered and hoped desperately both that the Lady Frahma hadn't noticed anything strange, and that Miata would be able to keep them... 

The balcony door swung open with a faint creak, and all three children stared at it with poorly concealed apprehension. Miata stood beyond, and her expression was somewhere between bewilderment and relief. "It's all right," she assured them. "Come in." 

Silently, they stood and filed in, both twins still clutching Shirley's hands, their eyes darting to where Lady Frahma sat demurely on a couch. Miata closed the door carefully and came to face them, kneeling to the twins' eye level. "She already knew," she told them softly. 

Shirley felt their clutch grow painfully tight, but their trust in Miata was such that neither questioned her assurance that all was well. 

"She already knew--but--she approves of what we did," Miata continued. 

_That explains why she looked so confused,_ Shirley thought, her mind still struggling to take this in. Lady Charle Frahma, sister of Emperor Melbu Frahma, _approved_ their treason? 

The lady rose from her seat and approached carefully, as though to avoid frightening the children any more than they already were. "I will not allow any harm to come to you, my dears," she said, voice gentle. "Don't be afraid. I came here to find the attendant who had allowed another child to live, in hopes that I might gain a badly needed ally. Your Miata has agreed to help me." 

"Charle wishes to bring us all to Ulara," Miata told them. "You will be safe there. Charle has chosen the people who live in her new city very carefully." 

Half of her mind caught the informal reference and briefly wondered at it, before deciding that any reference to the Emperor in the name of someone who wanted to help them made the thought many times more disconcerting. The other, more suspicious half snarled that this had to be a trap, that no one _would_ help them. Shirley quieted both halves, and looked intently into the noblewoman's face. 

What she saw there surprised her. Not in physical features, for Charle's smooth-faced perfection and beauty was common enough among higher ranks; in the years she had spent as a slave, she had encountered a few Winglies so placed on visits to the Birth City. But on the rare occasions these had deigned to look at a Human slave, there had been only contempt in their eyes, contempt and a kind of hardness that belied any possibility of warmth. Here...in the ruby eyes of the Wingly who held perhaps the second highest rank in the world, Shirley found a determination and deep compassion that echoed the look Miata had once given her. 

That look was the reason the Human girl had agreed to risk her life for the sake of two Wingly children; she could believe no betrayal from a person capable of it. "I would go with you, my lady," she said, and made a slight curtsey, out of genuine respect rather than tradition for once. 

"If Shirley thinks it's okay I'll go too," Leon added, and made a clumsy bow. On her other side, Lakia nodded silently. 

Miata smiled at them, and unexpectedly swept all three into a brief embrace. "I know I haven't been able to tell you this nearly often enough," she whispered for their ears alone, "but...I love you." 

"I can make arrangements for us to leave in a few days," Charle offered. "Tomorrow, even. Being high-ranked has a _few_ perks. You can be settling into Ulara within the week." 

But, turning away from the children and getting to her feet again, Miata shook her head. "No. I appreciate the offer, and certainly the children must go to Ulara, but I have to stay here." 

One fine eyebrow arched in surprise. "You would leave them on their own?" 

"Never willingly," Miata admitted, one hand lingering still on Shirley's shoulder. "But...they will be safe, with you. And what of the others? A dozen children die every day, and most have never known kindness. I can't leave them, either. Please understand..." The plea was directed at both Charle and the three who stood staring at the woman who was very like a mother to them. 

Shirley recovered first, and nodded firmly. "Miata is right," she told Charle, discarding caution and formality. "She can do more good here. You have to understand that." 

Charle looked at the children, still clinging to Shirley's hands, and understanding entered her ruby eyes. For some reason she glanced momentarily at one crystalline wall, covered by a fabric hanging. "I think," she murmured, "I have found a better ally than I ever hoped for. Yes, Miata, you are right. Stay--and I will help you however I can. But do come with me and see the children settled in first. They will be less frightened if you're there for them." 

Following her gaze, Miata nodded in agreement. Shirley relaxed a fraction--the idea of going somewhere new without Miata, necessary as it might be, hadn't really appealed, and this was the only compromise possible. 

_Safe...we'll be safe._ It was hard even to imagine no longer having to hide the twins' true species, and Shirley wondered for an instant how they would adjust. Her own first responsibility lay with them--but after they were older...it was possible, perhaps, that she could take some place of her own in helping other victims of Wingly oppressions. Miata would work for the Wingly children. Shirley wanted more than anything else to work for the freedom of the other races. 

But all of that would have to be dealt with later, and for now the Human settled herself on the floor with Lakia and Leon as the adults discussed how the transportation could be managed. Everything would work out now, Shirley knew, with the vaguely irrational certainty of childhood. And someday, everyone would be safe, and free. 

* * *

The Lady Charle Frahma's purchase of three Human slaves from an attendant caused a little gossip in the wards, but no one thought it particularly noteworthy--they were only envious of the high price Miata had received. Nor was there much talk when she left to spend a few days in Ulara, getting the slaves adjusted. 

Miata returned to continue her work with the infants, now with the added assistance of an occasional opportunity to send a few to Ulara who would otherwise be sentenced to death. Shirley, word came through private channels, had stayed with Lakia and Leon for some time, but once they were well settled in she had chosen to join a community of freed slaves in a growing city named Vellweb. 

In the Birth City, shortly after Miata's return from Ulara, new poems began to appear in the walls with greater frequency. If this was any more than a coincidence, no one saw it. 

But from time to time, a Wingly somewhat less hard of heart than was preferred looked at the blood-red letters and paused for a moment. And, strangely enough, the same and similar poetry began to appear in other places. 

Because, when a system begins to fail, even those it once protected are not safe from the corruption. For some, that realization came too late. But a few found the courage to see, and to choose...and, slowly, a feeling grew among the ordinary people of the Wingly Empire that something should be done. 

Ever so cautiously, Ulara's population grew. 

* * *

_

Truth

_

Words fall heedless from your lips, familiar phrases, lessons well learned:   
it is the Wingly right to rule, you say, all others are of no account.   
Our cities float above the world in breathtaking beauty,   
our warriors are unstoppable, our magic incomparable. 

I will listen as is expected and nod when you pause, with murmurs of agreement.   
You need not see the doubt growing black within my heart,   
for if you did I well know the slaves would shudder at my fate.   
Yet how long can I hide this? My own words well up, unspoken... 

I have seen your vaunted cities and found them hollow, rotting from within   
as a thousand innocent children weep (softly so as not to be heard)   
and pray to stone gods for protection, that they might be found worthy of life--   
I have watched as they died, slaughtered for the crime of imperfection. 

Meanwhile the Humans cry for mercy and find that none remains.   
Crushed beneath our cities and our magic and our warriors,   
we think them broken and ignore them; have we forgotten   
that a people without hope have nothing left to lose? 

The truth waits, clear and razor-edged; whose hand will first take it?   
Like the glittering crystal shards, whoever grasps it shall pay in blood.   
If we were willing to risk the pain, we might yet be redeemed.   
But blinded by millennia of lies we refuse, and so seal our fate. 

For there are others to whom truth calls, and they are clear-eyed and ruthless.   
Hands and hearts hardened by our own actions, unhesitating,   
they reach for truth and take firm hold, though blood drips from wounded fingers.   
How long have we now before they use what they have gained against us? 

But I am like the rest, I cannot speak; my tongue knows only lies.   
I smile and laugh and forget what creeps inevitably toward us, for a time;   
then I turn away, and feel my heart grow heavy as earthbound stone.   
What use are wings of light with a soul of ice? 

I have no place here. I recognize that if you cannot.   
My soul is not yet frozen and I would not have it become so.   
Call me a traitor if you wish, but I hold to my beliefs.   
If the Humans are inferior at least they yet feel. I know where I stand. 

* * *

Author's Notes: 

And that's the end. Another strange one, I know...I have no excuse for this one. The interpretation of the Birth City is probably a little unusual, but...well...I couldn't find any other way to write the story, actually. 

Miata appears in the game watering flowers in Ulara. Caron is there at the teleporter when the group enters. Leon and Lakia are my own creation; Shirley, of course, is the original White Silver Dragoon. 

For whatever reason, pre-game fics have been appealing to me lately...this one I've worked on for almost exactly a month, and it may be the fastest I've ever finished anything. The poetry is my own, poor as it may be. I welcome all comments! If you see any mistakes or parts that aren't as good as they might be, please tell me so I can fix them! 


End file.
